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certaimromance · 2 days ago

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𝜗𝜚 The Girl Next Door.

Spencer Reid x Neighbor!reader

series masterlist

Summary: If Spencer thought being secretly in love with you was hard, having to avoid you in the hallway was even worse.

Words: 4,8k.

Warnings & Tags: mention of jail. painter!reader. post prison reid. spencer’s pov. lack of communication. the reader has a cat. angst, so much angst. this is part of a series, check the masterlist to make sure you are in the correct chapter. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I struggled a lot writing this because it's a roller coaster, so sorry in advance.

“How long? It's not a problem to take care of everything, but I'd like to know if you'll be okay or—” Your voice almost cracked for a moment, your eyes still trying to adjust to the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. Spencer's sheets were still wrapped around your body, and you felt so connected to them that the thought of getting up while still watching him toss and turn looking for his shoes was too much.

“I don't think more than a day or two, I'll be fine.” He stopped his chaotic steps for a second and stared at you as if to make a promise. He paused, glancing away as if to compose himself before adding, “I have some work in Mexico. It came up last minute, or I’d have told you earlier.” His voice faltered, almost imperceptibly, and the words sounded rehearsed, like he was repeating something he’d practiced.

You frowned slightly, confusion flickering across your face. “Work in Mexico?” you echoed. “Since when do they send you out of the country for cases?”

“It’s not that kind of work,” he said quickly, his tone just a little too smooth, a little too practiced. “It’s…consulting. A conference on forensic advancements, some behavioral workshops—things like that.” He kept his gaze on the floor as he spoke, as if afraid to meet your eyes. “I won’t be gone long.”

You didn’t question him further. Why would you? Spencer wasn’t the type to lie, and the way his brows knit together, the way his voice softened with the promise, “I’ll be back soon,” made you believe him. But something about the way he shifted his weight, the way he avoided looking directly at you, left a faint unease in your chest.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t have dinner with you yesterday. And breakfast now. I’ll make it up to you when I get back,” he added, his words tumbling out in a rush, as if trying to fill the silence.

You tightened the sheets around yourself, curling into their warmth, feeling the lingering heat from the side of the bed where he had been only moments before. It felt like he had never really left, the space around you still filled with the faint echo of his presence. Watching him now, his movements a little frantic, his gaze flickering toward the clock every so often, made you feel like he was slipping away too quickly. A part of you, small and selfish, wanted to ask him to stay. To sit back down, to let the world and his trip wait just a little longer.

But the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you whispered, barely above a breath, as if afraid to disturb the fragile moment, “Promise?”

Spencer’s gaze softened even further, a tenderness washing over his features as he moved closer to you. His lips curled into a faint smile, one that didn’t quite touch his eyes but was filled with something that made your chest tighten. “Promise,” he replied, his voice firm but gentle, as though sealing a pact between the two of you. He leaned down, his warm breath brushing your forehead before his lips followed, pressing a soft, lingering kiss against your skin. The kiss was tender, quiet, and almost reluctant, as though he didn’t want to pull away from this moment either. For a moment, his forehead rested against yours, the space between you vanishing entirely. It felt like the world had narrowed to just this—just the two of you—and all the invisible lines you had drawn between friendship and something more blurred into nothing.

But before you could do something stupid, he pulled back, with his eyes lingering on you, still filled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “Have you seen my shoe?” he asked, his voice playful yet tinged with the usual frustration of his misplaced belongings.

You let out a small laugh, still wrapped in the sheets, the warmth from them mingling with the warmth of the moment. “Oh, you’re a mess, little boy,” you teased, your voice light and affectionate, the fondness for him slipping out in every word.

“Mittens take it again?” Spencer asked, his eyes glinting with playful exasperation. He had grown accustomed to your cat’s antics, and he could hardly be surprised at this point.

You nodded, grinning as you pointed to the underside of the bed. “Ding ding, genius,” you replied, your voice light and teasing as his gaze followed your finger. Sure enough, there it was, tucked under the bed—another casualty of your mischievous cat’s nightly adventures.

He grumbled good-naturedly, but a soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips, as if the chaos of the morning didn't matter when you were here with him and everything felt so domestic. As he bent down to pick up his shoe, you couldn't help but watch, your heart swelling at the sight of the man you were so in love with, even in his messiest moments. There was something about him—something in that moment—that made him feel so good, as if everything else could wait and the obvious fact that he didn't feel the same way about you didn't matter. Anyone outside the room generally didn't matter. For now, it was just the two of you, tangled in sheets and laughter, clinging to a piece of time that was all yours and would be the only thing you'd have left when he was gone.

“She loves you, that’s why she does it…I guess she wants your attention,” you said, your voice trailing off, and the taste of the words felt sour in your mouth. It sounded too much like you were talking about yourself rather than your pet, and the realization hit you like a cold wave. It made your chest tighten in a way you couldn’t explain, and you immediately wished you could take the words back. But you didn’t.

He glanced at you, a thoughtful expression crossing his features. “I read something about that,” he said, his voice light, but you could tell he didn’t entirely understand the weight behind your words. It didn’t matter. You were used to it by now.

“You read about everything.” You gave him a small, rueful smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes, the bitterness of the moment creeping into your voice. You were fine with it, you told yourself. Fine with everything.

He glanced at the clock, a quiet sigh escaping him. “I have to go…it’s late,” he said, and you could hear the quiet resignation in his voice. The moment, it seemed, had reached its inevitable end.

“Okay.” The word slipped out of your mouth more dryly than you intended, and you hated the way it sounded. You didn’t want him to leave. You didn’t want the moment to end. But it was already slipping away, and you knew it. “But before you go…come here.”

He hesitated, looking at you with uncertainty in his eyes. But then, slowly, he took a step toward you, his face softening when you reached out to touch his cheek. The moment your fingers brushed against his skin, he shivered, and your heart skipped a beat at the contact.

“Is…is something wrong?” he asked, his voice softer now, as if sensing the shift between you.

“No, I just want to say goodbye properly.” You shifted closer, your heart hammering as you moved toward him, your lips hovering near his. The temptation to close the distance, to kiss him, burned inside you. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.

“Take care and come back,” you whispered, the words carrying more weight than you meant. You kissed his forehead gently, your fingers instinctively smoothing his hair down as you did. “Now it’s like you have my blessing,” you added with a faint smile.

He smiled at you, the warmth in his expression a bittersweet thing that made your heart ache. “Thank you, and good luck tomorrow with my godchildren’s.” His voice was soft, but the moment was already passing, slipping away, and with it, the space between you both. He gathered his things, gave you one last lingering look, and then turned toward the door.

You stood there, watching him go, the weight of what you didn’t say crashing down on you. The door clicked shut behind him, and you felt a hollow ache in your chest, a longing you couldn’t quite name.

God, you really wanted kissed him.

God, he really wanted you kissed him.

When Spencer opened his eyes for the first time in a cell and felt a sickening jolt of disorientation. The dirty walls and a rickety bench stared back at him, mocking the comforting image of his organized room and, more painfully, the thought of you. The absence of your laughter, your touch, your presence—everything that had once grounded him—hit him like a freight train. He knew something was wrong.

As the days blurred together and the evidence piled against him, he clung to the belief that this nightmare wasn’t real. Every hearing, every damning piece of evidence that chipped away at his freedom, felt surreal. Even when the judge handed down his sentence, condemning him to months behind bars, the finality of it didn’t register. What shattered him was the moment he filled out his visitation schedule and consciously omitted your name. He hadn’t wanted you to see him like that. He didn’t ask anyone to explain, didn’t try to soften the blow of his absence. That, he thought, was the point of no return—the moment he lost everything.

But Spencer was so wrong. The true breaking point came when he walked out of that hellhole, finally free, and climbed the stairs to his apartment. Each step was a physical ache, the pain in his chest sharper and heavier with every step. His hands trembled as he reached for his keys, the jangling sound unnervingly loud in the empty hallway. His gaze fell on your door, just a few steps away. The familiar sight sent his stomach into knots.

For the first time, he wished you wouldn’t be there.

The thought was alien, unnatural. You had always been there, and he had always wanted you there. When he was too drained to cook, you’d suggest their usual coffee spot, your smile lighting up the grayest of mornings. When his back ached from long nights bent over case files, you’d massage his shoulders, insisting scented candles could fix his bad posture and his bad days. When his mother’s health took a downturn, and he felt his world crumbling, you’d hold him, stroke his back, and promise that everything would be okay. And when his social battery was drained at reunions, you’d step in with your bad jokes or your art facts, making the world feel manageable again.

Now, standing in front of his own door, his fingers clumsy with the lock, all he could hope for was silence. He didn’t know how to face you, didn’t know if he could explain the broken pieces of himself.

His door creaked open, and he was greeted by the familiar scent of the home he had only dreamed of for the last while. It was overwhelming: clean clothes, slightly sweet candles, and something undeniably yours. The apartment was exactly as he remembered it, as if time had stopped the moment he left three months ago and never returned until now. His heart shrank as he took it all in: the blanket you insisted on leaving on the couch, the pile of books you always meant to return to his library but never did, his fish swimming around as if nothing had happened, and even the plants by the window, thriving despite his absence because you had surely watered them without fail.

And then there were the little details, things that told him that you had not moved away from this place, from him. The plate you always left for his cup of coffee, the one you gave him last Christmas, was still on the counter. His favorite cardigan, the one he thought he had misplaced, was folded neatly on the back of the chair and smelled of the baby softener you liked to use. His books were exactly where he had left them, although one of them had a bookmark you had made, a telltale sign that he had read it and was waiting for him to come back to comment on it, as you always did.

But he hadn’t returned.

Not then. And maybe not now at all.

Suddenly, the phone in his pocket rang, its shrill tone slicing through the heavy silence like a sharp reminder of reality. The vibration against his skin startled him, his body tensing as he pulled the device out. His gaze flickered down to the screen, and the name that appeared caused a knot to form in his stomach: JJ. His thumb hovered over the screen, his mind racing, unsure if he was ready for the conversation he knew would follow. But deep down, he knew there was no avoiding her. Jennifer wouldn’t let him slip away unnoticed, and if he didn’t answer, she might show up at his door, demanding answers he wasn’t sure he had.

With a resigned sigh, he swiped the screen and lifted the phone to his ear. “Is everything okay?”

The concern in his own voice surprised him. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe he was just desperate to shift the focus away from himself.

“Everything’s fine,” JJ replied, her voice steady but laced with something deeper. “I just wanted to check in. You’ve been…quiet.”

He exhaled slowly, staring out the window, the city lights stretching before him and the memories cutting deep. “Yeah,” he said, his voice low. “Just trying to catch up on things. All good here.”

“Okay,” she said softly, and there was a pause—a hesitation that made his pulse quicken. He could almost hear her thinking, weighing her next words. Then she cleared her throat, the sound small but deliberate. “Have you seen…her?”

The question hit him like a physical blow, stealing the air from his lungs. He turned away from the window abruptly, pacing the length of the apartment as if motion could somehow ease the tension coiling tighter and tighter in his chest. “No,” he said quickly, too quickly. His jaw clenched, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “I don’t know if I want to.”

The lie tasted bitter on his tongue, and he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself. How could he say that when every thought of you still made his heart ache? When the idea of you haunted him, so vivid and constant it felt like you were in every shadow of his empty apartment?

Jennifer’s sigh crackled over the line, heavy and filled with the weight of unspoken truths. “She’s been asking about you,” she said softly, her voice tinged with that unshakable sadness she tried so hard to hide. “Every time I see her. I think…” She hesitated again, and Spencer could hear her swallow hard, choosing her next words carefully. “I think you owe her an explanation.”

He swallowed saliva and tightened his fingers around the phone. JJ was right, of course. She always had been. But the idea of facing you, of trying to explain everything without drowning in tears, seemed impossible. How could he tell you the truth? How could he look you in the eye and admit that he had spent the last three months in jail, paying for a crime he had not committed? That he had done things that he deeply regretted, that made him sick and a horrible person?

You deserved better. You always had.

You were a blessing to anyone who had you around, and he knew that better than anyone. That's why he recommended you as a babysitter for JJ's kids, that's why he insisted that you come out to the bar with him and the team several times, that's why he told his mother about you, and that's why he gave you unlimited access to every single part of his life and told you things he'd never told anyone else. You were the one he thought of during those long, sleepless nights behind bars when JJ brought drawings from her boys. He imagined you there with them, sitting cross-legged on the floor, helping Henry with his homework or letting Michael pile blocks on your lap. It was silly—heartbreaking, even—but the thought of you, of your warmth and your kindness, had kept him going.

“I have to go…clean some things,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, so desperate to run away from the topic.

“Okay,” JJ replied softly, her voice tinged with sadness. “Tell me if you need anything.”

Before Spencer could find the strength to speak, the line fell silent. The hum of the apartment filled the space around him, oppressive in its quiet, and he stood there, phone still clenched in his hand. The weight of it, the weight of everything, settled deeper into his chest, making it hard to breathe. He stared at the counter as if it could offer him some sort of escape from the quiet agony that had overtaken him. With a long exhale, he dropped the phone, his fingers lingering on it for a second longer than necessary, before pulling away with a heavy sense of finality.

Just as he was about to move, his mind already drowning in the whirlpool of thoughts he was so desperate to escape, a soft, muted thud broke the oppressive stillness of the apartment. The noise was faint, almost imperceptible, but in the suffocating quiet, it reverberated like a crack of thunder. His breath caught, his heart skipping a beat as his body went rigid. Slowly, he turned his head toward the source of the sound, his eyes locking onto the open balcony door.

A sleek black shape emerged from the shadows, moving with a practiced elegance that seemed almost ethereal in the dim light. Mittens.

“Hey,” he murmured, his voice breaking on the single syllable, hoarse and unsteady as if even addressing his might shatter the fragile thread of control he was clinging to.

The cat paused for a moment, her head tilting slightly as if considering him, her eyes gleaming in the dim light. Then, without a second thought, she padded over, her steps confident and unhurried, the soft click of her claws against the floor the only sound in the room. She jumped lightly onto the couch, then onto the small table beside him, her movements fluid and practiced. As she reached him, Mittens sniffed his hand delicately, then nuzzled it gently, her warm, soft fur brushing against his fingertips. The familiar rumble of her purring filled the air, a soothing, almost hypnotic sound that cut through the tension and wrapped around him like a blanket.

Spencer let out a shaky breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “I didn’t think I’d see you again,” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet of the apartment. He hesitated, his fingers brushing the soft fur of her head, unable to stop himself from reaching out.

Mittens leaned into his touch, her purr intensifying as her little body pressed against his hand, seeking warmth, some affection. She didn't care about the months she hadn't seen him or just heard his name spoken a thousand times by you. To her, he was still Spencer, the same one who had fed her, played with her, and cared for her whenever he could. That was enough. She was very happy.

“You still remember me,” he murmured, a faint, fragile smile tugging at the corners of his lips. It was the first time he’d smiled in what felt like an eternity.

The cat blinked up at him, her green eyes half-lidded with contentment, as if to say, Of course I do.

For a long moment, he just stood there, his hand resting on her soft fur, letting her purring fill the empty spaces inside him. It was such a small thing, her presence, but it reminded him of you—of the life he’d left behind, the warmth he hadn’t realized he’d needed so desperately until now.

But the calm didn’t last, and Spencer’s heart nearly stopped when he heard a soft knock on the door. His gaze snapped up from the cat, who was now lazily sprawled across the arm of the couch, her purring uninterrupted. The knock came again, this time paired with a voice that sent a jolt through his chest.

“Mittens?”

The voice was muffled through the door, but he knew it instantly. It was you.

Another knock followed, gentle but insistent. “Are you here, baby?”

He froze, every muscle in his body tightening as he registered the sound of your voice. You were here, in his apartment—or at least on the threshold of it. The thought was both thrilling and terrifying. He wasn’t ready for this. He wasn’t ready to see you again.

The cat, oblivious to the tension that suddenly filled the room, stretched lazily before hopping down from the couch. Her tail flicked behind her as she padded toward the door, her movements casual, as if she belonged here. Her eyes were fixed on you as you stepped through the open door, your figure partially silhouetted by the light from the outside.

“There you are,” you said softly, your voice brimming with relief. The warmth in your tone hit him like a physical blow, and he had to bite down hard on the inside of his cheek to stifle the sound threatening to escape.

You crouched down to scoop the cat into your arms, your movements gentle and practiced. “You scared me,” you murmured, cradling her against your chest. Your voice softened, carrying that familiar tenderness he’d missed so desperately. “You’ve been running off so much lately.”

Spencer pressed himself against the shadowed wall, willing himself to disappear. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move, couldn’t even look at you for fear his body might betray him. The apartment was dark enough to hide him, but he knew the signs of his presence were everywhere—his phone abandoned on the counter, the faint indentation on the couch, the way the air seemed to shift with the weight of him being there.

You didn’t notice. Your focus was entirely on Mittens as you stroked her soft fur, your touch so gentle it made Spencer ache. “I know you miss him,” you murmured, the words falling from your lips so quietly they almost didn’t reach him. “I do too.”

The confession tore through him like a blade, sharp and unrelenting. His chest tightened, and he bit down hard on his lip, tasting the faint metallic tang of blood. Tears burned in his eyes, but he refused to let them fall.

You lingered for a moment, your gaze sweeping over the apartment as if you could feel his presence, even if you didn’t see him. Then, with a soft sigh, you turned back toward the door.

“Let’s go home, baby,” you whispered, pressing a kiss to the top of Mittens’ head before stepping into the night.

The door closed with a quiet click, and Spencer was left alone once more. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his hand trembling as it pressed against his face. The silence was deafening, a hollow, aching void that swallowed him whole.

Maybe it was for the best. Maybe fate didn’t want you to see him again—at least, not yet.

But then, the next morning, it happened.

You were returning to your apartment, groceries in hand, when you saw him.

He was standing at the end of the hallway with his back to you, as if he was leaving his apartment. As soon as you saw him, your heart skipped a beat and all your rational thoughts vanished. It seemed like an eternity since you had seen him, even though it had only been a few months. Your first instinct was to run to him, throw yourself into his arms, and demand an explanation, but something about his posture made you hesitate. He was stiff, distant, almost sad. His usual warmth was nowhere to be seen. And yet there was something different about him: his long hair, now a bit wilder and more unruly, framed his face in a way you had never seen before. Some curls fell over his eyes, and his beard had grown thicker and darker. The change in his appearance was shocking.

Without thinking, you dropped your groceries at your door and hurried toward him. “Spencer!” you called, your voice trembling with a rush of emotions you had bottled up for months.

He turned slowly, and for a split second, his eyes locked with yours. There was something in his gaze—a flicker of recognition, maybe guilt, but it quickly faded, replaced by a cool distance you had never seen in him before, at least not with you. Before you could stop yourself, you reached out and pulled him into a tight hug. It was instinct, more than anything, to wrap your arms around him like you always used to do. The warmth of his body felt like home, like everything you had missed was right there in your arms. You held on tightly, breathing him in as if this would somehow make up for the absence. You’d been so lonely without him, and this, just holding him again, felt like it would fix everything that has been wrong lately.

But to your surprise, Spencer didn’t move an inch. This time his body was rigid, unyielding, as if he didn’t feel you or want you around. He did not return your hug. He didn’t even seem to acknowledge it or really want it. His arms remained stiff at his sides, and you could feel his breath hitching against your neck, but he didn’t respond. It was like hugging a stranger, someone you once knew but no longer recognized.

“God, I missed you…” You pulled back slightly, looking up at him, trying to gauge his expression, but his face was unreadable. His long hair now brushed against the collar of his shirt, the unruly beard framing his jawline. But his eyes were the only thing that stayed the same—cold and distant, void of the tenderness they once held. “Are you okay?”

He didn’t answer immediately. The silence hung between you, thick and oppressive, before he finally spoke, his voice flat. “Sorry, I…I don’t think I’m the best person for that right now.”

Your heart sank, the warmth of the hug and reunion evaporating into a hollow chill. “What happened?” you whispered, feeling the pain creep into your voice. “Where have you been? Why didn’t you say anything? I was so worried for you and JJ don’t say so much.”

He didn’t smile. He didn’t even look like Spencer, not the one you had known—kind, warm, and always ready to offer comfort. His face was hard, closed off, and distant. He seemed…different, almost cold. “I’m sorry, I needed to get to…work,” he said, his voice clipped and curt. “I didn’t think you’d be awake at this hour.”

You felt a pang of confusion and hurt at his words. “What do you mean? You didn’t want to see me? You haven’t been here in months,” you said, the bitterness creeping into your voice. “You just disappear, and then you show up here, like nothing happened? You sleep here? I came to your apartment last night, and you weren’t there.”

He didn’t react. No apology, no acknowledgment of the pain he’d caused. He just stood there, cold, distant. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words almost sounding like an afterthought. “I had work to do. It’s…complicated.”

“Complicated?” The word tasted bitter on your tongue. “That’s all you’ve got after disappearing for three months?”

Finally, his eyes met yours again, but there was no warmth in them. No tenderness, no familiarity. His gaze was hard, as cold as his words. “I don’t owe you an explanation,” he said sharply, his tone final, cutting through the air like a knife.

It felt like a punch to the gut. The warmth that had once filled your heart whenever Spencer entered a room, the gentle care he had shown you, was now replaced by something colder. It was as if the person you had known—the person who had been your friend, your confidant—had vanished along with the man who used to leave you sweet notes and show up with your favorite food after a rough day.

“You…you don’t owe me anything?” you whispered, your heart breaking with each word.

The silence stretched between you again, suffocating. When he spoke, his voice was quiet, almost hesitant. “I’m sorry.”

But it was hollow, empty. A formality. Not an apology that meant anything.

And then, just as quickly as he had appeared, he turned, walking away. “I have to go,” he said, his voice softer now, but still detached.

Before you could say anything else, he turned, leaving as quickly as he had appeared. And just like that, he was gone again—leaving you alone with the deafening silence and a heart full of questions.

Just like your worst fear: Spencer was avoiding you in the hallway.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid angst #matthew gray gubler

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lilghostiequinni · 2 days ago

Text

Family = Familia

Main Masterlist Carlando Masterlist

Pairing: Wife!female reader x Lando Norris x Carlos Sainz

Warnings: Fluffy,

Summary: Family, Familia, it was all the same. The word met the same in every language. You found your family in that of two men and they had never made you more happy.

Requested: NO / yes

When you first met your husbands, you had met Lando first.

At first, you didn't want to pursue anything, having just gotten out of a serious good relationship that turned toxic and abusive to both you and your ex.

You did everything that you could to avoid Lando, but he doubled his efforts, that's when you met Carlos.

Then with the both of them pursuing you, it was four times as hard to avoid them.

You thought that they were just enjoying the chase because you wouldn't give in to them.

But then, one day, they both cornered you, and the three just talked.

You told them your concerns about the both of them pursuing you and about them only being interested in the chase.

They eased your concerns and said they both agreed they wouldn't make you choose and would be okay if you chose one or both of them.

They told you it wasn't just about the chase, that it was about you.

Afterward, you gave them a chance after a couple days; you couldn't deny your feelings for both of them, so you told them so.

It started in 2021, and before the end of 2022, you had been married to both of them.

They became your family.

Your own family had practically disowned you after you moved away to college, your dream college; they wanted you to stay behind and take care of your younger siblings rather than live your life.

They didn't even come to your wedding, at least your parents didn't, your siblings did, and your grandparents died, and your aunts and uncles wanted nothing to do with any argument between you and your parents.

So their families became yours.

Cisca and Reyes became not only your mothers-in-law but also treated you as if you were one of their own.

Same with Adam and Carlos Sr.

You were living the life you had always wanted, one with a loving family.

When you found out you were pregnant, you asked both of your husbands if you could design them a helmet, not telling them at first, wanting the helmet to be the surprise.

They originally thought you just wanted to design a helmet for fun.

You made sure they were separate when they opened their helmet bags to see the helmet.

Their respective social media teams had been in on the whole thing and recording their reactions.

Lando was the first to open his helmet; when he opened it, he froze and then turned so fast you would have thought he was in the car.

He got to you in less than thirty seconds, picked you up, and just held you, kissing you and asking if it was true.

When you said yes, you could see the tears in his eyes.

Then you went Carlos, and at first, seeing the helmet, he didn't freeze; he looked at you, then back at the helmet, then back to you, then back to the helmet, then registered what was going on, and then froze.

When he looked back at you again, you just nodded and he was there in three steps, holding you close and kissing you, saying how he was proud.

None of you three wanted to tell anyone else until you were sure that you wouldn't lose the baby.

Well, that turned into never telling anyone else during your whole pregnancy.

The social media teams agreed to not post the videos until you were ready for people to know.

During winter break, when the twins were born after Lando's win in Abu Dhabi, you told the media teams they could post the videos a week later after you told your families.

When you went to dinner with your family, your two husbands went out and said they were sorry that you weren't coming alone.

Everyone was confused as to why you weren't there, not understanding why Lando and Carlos would say that you weren't coming alone.

Then you walked through the door, with your twins.

Everyone was shocked that you kept the whole pregnancy a secret, given none of the three of you could keep one.

What was shocking to everyone when they saw your twins was that you could tell who their father was.

The elder twin was an exact copy of Lando, and the younger was an exact copy of Carlos.

Your family was growing; you couldn't have been happier.

Nothing else mattered to you, just your found familia.

A/N: First in the 100 Follower ship poll.

Tags: @poppyflower-22 @samantha-chicago @barcelonaloverf1life @tallrock35 @ellen3101 @llando4norris @mcmuppet @issi-loves-dannyric @1800-love-me @barcelonaloverf1life @scopeiguess @01rrdbull @taetae-armyyyyy @watermelonslut @hellothere9597

If you want to be removed from a tag list, let me know so I don't keep tagging you. If you are striked through, I don't know if you want to be tagged, but just let me know if you want me to continue or stop

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daryltwdixon · 16 hours ago

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hii! i dont know if you are still taking requests or not, but if you are, you think you could write something fluff with daryl at the prison era, where reader always give him kisses before he or she left the place and daryl always acts nonchalant (but he secretly loves it) and one day she forgots to do that and he acts grumpy all day?

Daryl x Reader request

fluff, established relationship, prison era

a/n: thank you for the request! I always love an angsty Daryl who is secretly a big softie

Every morning, like clockwork, it happened. No matter the chaos, no matter how many things needed to be done, you always made time for him. A quick, soft kiss on the lips before heading out to handle the day. It wasn’t anything grand or dramatic—it didn’t need to be. It was your little thing, a moment of connection that seemed to ground him in ways he couldn’t quite put into words.

And every time, Daryl would react the same way. A quiet grunt, a half-hearted roll of his eyes, like it was no big deal. Like it didn’t make his chest feel lighter or his head swim for a second longer than he cared to admit. But it wasn’t just routine for him—it had become something he looked forward to, a bright spot in an otherwise bleak world.

This morning, though, something was different.

You were busy, running around with Glenn and Maggie, prepping for a supply run. You gave him a quick wave and a distracted smile before hopping into the truck, and then you were gone.

No kiss.

Daryl blinked, standing there like an idiot, his lips still tingling from the ghost of something that didn’t happen.

He told himself it didn’t matter. That he wasn’t some lovesick puppy pining for affection like a teenager. But as the day dragged on, he couldn’t shake the nagging irritation.

Everything seemed to piss him off more than usual. The way Carl left his tools scattered around, how Rick kept asking for updates on the fence, even the way the damn wind wouldn’t stop blowing dust into his face. Carol caught on fast, as she always did.

“You’ve been stomping around all day,” she said, leaning against the fence. “What’s eating you?”

“Nothin’,” he grumbled, refusing to look at her.

Carol smirked knowingly. “You’re a terrible liar. Did your girlfriend not kiss you goodbye or somethin'?”

His shoulders stiffened for a split second—a blink-and-you’d-miss-it moment—but it was all the confirmation she needed.

“Oh my god, you’re serious!” Carol burst into laughter, her voice echoing through the yard. “I can’t believe it! Poor Daryl, all grumpy ‘cause he didn’t get his smooch.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled, his ears turning red. He tried to play it cool, scowling as he resumed working, but he knew he’d been caught.

Carol wasn’t letting it go. “I’ll give you a kiss if it makes you feel better, pookie!” she teased, puckering her lips dramatically.

“Pfft...nah,” Daryl shot back, dropping the wire cutter and practically bolting from the fence line.

Carol chuckled in amusement, watching him stalk off toward the other side of the yard.

He didn’t stop or turn around, but the faintest mutter of “crazy woman” drifted back in response.

By the time the truck rolled back into the yard, dusk was settling over the prison. Daryl was back crouched near the gates, his gloved hands fidgeting with the wire of the fence, pretending to be engrossed in his task. He wasn’t waiting for you—not deliberately, anyway.

When you hopped out of the truck, laughing softly at something Maggie said, his eyes flickered up, but he quickly looked away, focusing harder on his work.

“Hey,” you said softly, walking up to him.

He barely grunted in response, his grip tightening around the wire. His body language screamed irritation, but his gaze refused to meet yours.

“Daryl,” you said again, your tone gentler this time. When he didn’t respond, you knelt down beside him, your voice coaxing. “Baby, look at me, please.”

He sighed heavily, begrudgingly shifting his attention to you. His stormy blue eyes locked on yours, and for a moment, the tension between you hung thick in the air. He wasn’t mad at you—he could never be mad at you. He was mad at himself, frustrated that something so small, so seemingly insignificant, could gnaw at him all day. It was ridiculous. How could the absence of one fleeting kiss turn his mood so sour?

But then your hand cupped his cheek, and the roughness of his expression softened under your touch. Before he could think of something gruff to say, you leaned in, brushing your lips against his. The kiss was slow, sweet, and deliberate—an unspoken apology wrapped in warmth.

It was like flipping a switch. The tension in his shoulders melted away, replaced by a low heat that spread through his chest. He kissed you back, his gloved hand tentatively rising to rest on your arm, as if grounding himself in the moment.

When you pulled away, your cheeks were flushed, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry—I should’ve known.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “Known what?” he rasped, his voice rougher than usual.

“That I forgot to give you a kiss goodbye this morning,” you said, your lips curving into a faint, apologetic smile. “I’m sorry for that.”

Daryl didn’t respond right away. Instead, he threw off his gloves and his hands shot out, curling around yours with a firm grip. Without another word, he tugged you to your feet and led you toward the prison’s interior. His steps were purposeful, his silence heavy but charged.

“Daryl, where are we—”

You didn’t get the chance to finish the question. The moment he found an empty, shadowed room, he pulled you inside, shutting the door behind you. Before you could ask again, his lips were on yours, his movements urgent and unrestrained.

Your back hit the wall as he caged you in with his body, his hands sliding to your waist, tugging you closer. His breath was hot against your mouth as he growled, “Ain’t lettin’ you forget again.”

The kiss deepened, his lips and hands telling you everything he couldn’t put into words. You clung to him, matching his intensity, feeling the fervent need behind his touch. The world outside that room ceased to exist as he lost himself in you, determined to make up for the day’s earlier frustration in a way only he could.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #daryl #the walking dead daryl #daryl x reader #daryl twd #daryl fanfiction #daryl one shot #daryl dixion imagine #daryl dixon fluff #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon the walking dead #ask daryltwdixon

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mylovesstuffs · 3 days ago

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Mingyu is THAT type of boyfriend !

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Mingyu is full of chaotic yet loveable golden retriever energy. He’s always enthusiastic about spending time with you, whether it’s grocery shopping, binge-watching dramas, or attempting a cooking show.

He’s the guy who’s always fixing something for you. Got a loose cabinet? Mingyu’s already got his tools out. And if you don’t compliment his manly skills, he’ll pout until you do.

Mingyu takes forever to get ready because, let’s be honest, he knows he’s hot. But when he shows up looking like a whole runway model, you’re just like, “Fine, you’re forgiven.”

Mingyu is a cuddler. No debate. His favorite? Full-on bear hugs where he practically crushes you with his giant frame.

If someone flirts with you, Mingyu doesn’t get mad; he just goes extra with the PDA. Oh, you like her? Well, watch this! Cue him draping himself over you like an overgrown puppy.

Mingyu’s love language? Food. He’s constantly cooking for you or sneaking snacks into your bag. And if you tell him it’s too much, he’ll dramatically gasp, saying you're rejecting his love??

He won’t always say cheesy things outright, but he’ll have these moments where he looks at you like you’re the most precious thing in the world.

Mingyu is the type to secretly make sure you’re safe. He’ll walk on the side of the street closest to traffic, double-check your locks, and pretend it’s no big deal. “What? I’m just being practical!” Sure, Mingyu. Sure.

This man loves physical touch. Whether it’s holding hands, back hugs, or casually resting his arm around your shoulder, he’s always finding ways to stay close to you.

Mingyu could be the most gorgeous, capable guy in the room, but he’ll still trip over thin air or spill coffee on himself.

Mingyu has this natural flirtiness about him that should be illegal. He’ll smirk and say something like, “You know, you’re the most beautiful person in any room, right?” And then immediately ruin it by laughing because he’s shy. PLS HELP-

Mingyu might try to act cool and suave, but the moment you do something cute, he’s a puddle. You could literally sneeze, and he’d be like, you're the cutest baby when he's the one who's a baby—

When Mingyu’s under the weather, he becomes so dramatic. He’ll whine, as if he thinks he's dying, and will tell you to hold him but as soon as you take care of him, he’s all smiles.

Late at night, he’ll randomly ask, “What do you think the meaning of life is?” and then proceed to get all philosophical. It’s sweet, though, because he genuinely loves hearing your thoughts.

Mingyu loves teasing you, whether it’s poking fun at your quirks or jokingly copying the way you talk. But the moment you tease him back? Noooo, he was just kidding! Don’t be mean! TT

Every date is a photo op. Mingyu will snap a million pictures of you and say, “Just one more, the lighting’s perfect!” He’s basically your personal photographer.

For someone so confident, Mingyu cannot handle compliments. Tell him he’s handsome, and he’ll turn into a blushing mess.

Mingyu’s love is big, bold, and unapologetic. He’s the type to go all out for you because, in his eyes, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to him.

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calphalon · 2 days ago

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always watching | jason todd headcanons

⤵ pairing: jason todd (red hood) x reader ⤵ tw: all lowercase, possessive behavior, stalking, breaking & entering, one-sided affections, yandere ⤵ note: acts of service are jason’s love language... that and maybe he might like scaring you ⤵ inspo song: black hole sun by soundgarden

hasn’t always gotten this close to you.

at first it was just watching you on the subway, taking note of your commute where it crossed paths with him. watching as you walked down dark streets on your way home from a night shift you picked up.

he didn’t intend to get so invested in a civilian, not so much that he used his patrol routes to keep an eye on you. the later you work, the worse he is about following your every step. so much so that he starts to follow you on foot opposed to watching from just balconies and rooftops.

sometimes he would even follow you during the day, hood up and wearing a mask. you never seemed to notice the man in a red hoodie who sat a few tables down from the dinner you liked, the one who would stare at you the entire time. the one who would order a meal just to pretend like he was sharing a meal with you.

sometimes he would even talk to himself, pretending the two of you were actually on some kind of date like this. other people would notice, but behavior like that in gotham was easily dismissed.

it gets to a tipping point when he notices that you keep a window open poorly locked in your apartment. one next to the fire escape, locks almost as old as the building itself. He tests it one day in the hopes you might want him inside your house, and he takes it as a sign.

his nights begin to end with waiting for you to fall asleep, sneaking in, and taking in a slice of the life he pretends to have with you. there is this delusion that somehow this is your way of silently letting him know you know he is there - watching your every move - and want something more. something real.

you start to notice that the dishes in the sink you left the night before are clean and put away. the hinges that used to squeak on the doors are greased up and no longer make noise. The sink in your bathroom that drips no longer causes you problems.

some things you dismiss as luck. others you try to dismiss as your landlord finally stepping up. there is this uneasy feeling you have now, this feeling of being watched.

maybe it’s when you notice the fridge is stocked up with groceries after you spent your check on bills. maybe it’s the fact your neighbor complained about you letting guests use the fire escape to loiter on. maybe it’s when you noticed the bathroom mirror still fogged up when the morning came despite not taking a shower the night before. maybe it’s that feeling of a second body in the bed even though you know you live alone.

jason has gotten comfortable with this routine. visiting you while you’re asleep, relaxing in your home as if it was his own - of course it was his now, you basically invited him in every night - and enjoying being so close to you.

he gets so comfortable he starts entering your place even when you’re awake. listening to you shower, watching you cook breakfast, taking note of how sweet you look so domestic. he can practically imagine what life would be like once you’re his.

something puts you on edge, causing you to call out of work. you start asking friends to stay over. you’ve even started to look at new apartments, worried that maybe someone has been secretly living in your cheap one-bedroom hole-in-the-wall while you’re away… and maybe while you’re still there.

he gets sloppy. purposely sloppy. jason thinks he might like the way you’re scared, constantly checking if other people have been having similar issues in your area. checking if any convicts escaped recently. looking over your shoulder even in your own home.

you do move, find a slightly better place with a code to get in the building and someone downstairs watching who enter and exits.

for a little while there is the ability to feel comfortable again…

then you wake up to a new coffee maker on the kitchen counter with a note attached, letting you know he likes the new place better than your last.

“the windows lock better here. enjoy the housewarming gift.”

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #jason todd headcanon #yandere jason todd #yandere red hood #x reader

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mi55delulu · 2 days ago

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[9:56 p.m.]

pairing: lawyer!jungkook x lawyer!fem reader

cw: fluff, mature language, banter, established relationship, mentions of domestic violence, inaccurate depiction of law bc do i look like a lawyer? 😭 written in lowercase and also, unedited … boo me.

—

“how could you?!” you slammed the newspaper down onto jungkook’s desk. he peered up at you through his glasses, unsurprised at your reaction. the headline of said newspaper read: superstar mingyu suspected of cheating on korea’s sweetheart somi in amidst of domestic violence trial.

“i knew you played dirty, but this is a new low for you, jeon jungkook.” you sneer, pacing back and forth in his office. he watches you, eyes never leaving the way your skirt hugged your figure.

“well, did he not? the pictures on your phone from the paps tell us otherwise.” jungkook leans back in his leather chair. he looks good like this — hair slicked back neatly with a couple of strands framing his forehead, tie loose around his neck, and sleeves rolled up on his forearms to display his tattoos he’d usually cover in the courtroom.

you and jungkook were from the same cohort in law school. the best students in that year, always neck and neck when it came to your coursework. though, jungkook had one thing that you lacked: charm. he was always able to persuade the judge and jury at the very last minute.

in school, you both learned the three simple rules of persuasion: ethos, pathos, and logos. you liked sticking with the facts — logos. after all, the law is above all and justice is only proven in the court. jungkook, however, played his cards using tactics that swayed hearts. it frustrated you, but it always gave him the upper hand. things haven’t changed much from school now that you were both associates in the top rival law firms in korea.

you continue, “it doesn’t justify the abuse—” “alleged.” jungkook interjects with a smile.

“—he sustained from your client! for all we know, there was no overlap.” you palm your forehead and rub your temples to ease the forthcoming migraine.

jungkook stands up and comes around his desk, “baby.”

jungkook swayed many hearts in the courtroom, but he only had one heart in mind. you were a tough case to crack, but that’s what he loves about you. so headstrong, so smart.

he chased you down after every mock trial to offer a drink after another one of your losses against him. it’s a common practice for law school students — work hard, play harder. like clockwork, you’d hold up a hand to decline respectfully. but after you’d won in an exceptionally hard trial, you finally accepted his offer to drink. that was the turning point for your relationship in the coming years with him.

he corners you against his desk, arms caging your sides as he leans in to kiss your cheek while making his way down your neck. if you were truly upset with him, you wouldn’t have let him near you, let alone touch you like this.

“i’m sorry.” he means it, doesn’t like upsetting you, but he also hates losing big profile cases. he reckons you’re the same given with how you barged into his office. it’s not the first time and his secretary has given up trying to stop you.

“fuck you,” you scowl, to which jungkook answers with a nod against your neck, “keep this shit up and i’m going to postpone the wedding date. also, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”

“i’ll make it up to you after the trial, okay?” he kisses up your jaw.

“that’s bribery, jungkook.” you lull your head to the side, too tired to continue this argument with your fiancé.

“all’s fair in love and war.”

—

a/n: hehe was this okay? thought i’d drop off something small to kickoff 2025. lmk if i should continue these lil timestamp drabbles or if you’d prefer longer fics. if you like longer fics … you’ll rarely hear from me since my lil pea brain takes a minimum of 10 business days to write 1k words LOL anyways, have a lovely day

#jungkook fanfic #jungkook drabble #jungkook fluff #jungkook lawyer #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook oneshot #jungkook established relationship #bangtan fic

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smallestapplin · 3 days ago

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Hellooo! Good evening or um good morning so yea I was watching G1 transformers and canonically mirage is like loaded like he's from the upper class. So I um immediately thought that he's sugar daddy material. Like man only picks the finest/expensive cars even from G1. So I'm asking for like um sugar daddy mirage with a human female reader and since he doesn't know how to woo her, he practically buys her attention and time. Like he enjoys watching her spend his money. Casually suggesting that a top that he sees while she's scrolling on her phone and says that it would fit her and that she should buy it. Coincidentally, the color of the top matches his paint. Omg I've made this long huhu now I feel shy. 😿😿

Wait this is actually so cute and funny, I love it. I hope I did this right for you!💖

Mirage isn’t use to human ways of living and courtship, but he tries so hard to be friendly and welcoming, he wants you to know he’s safe to go to for anything! But falling for you wasn’t on that list, you’re such a tiny thing compared to him, he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

But how could he not? You’re so funny, so kind, always helping him learn more about your culture and Earth in general, even if that means he won’t ever live down calling a trees ‘organic speed stoppers’, but your laughter made it all the more worth it to embarass himself.

Mirage isn’t sure how to court you the human way, so why not his way? It’s not like he can ask anyone either, lest the tell you or make fun of him for falling for a human.

He shows off, racing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe often, doing dangerous stunts, taking sharp turns, making sure he’s flashy enough for you in his alt mode. He lives for your cheers, lives on your priase. The twins know what he’s doing, it’s what ever racer does to gain the affection of someone.

Yet you don’t pick up on that, you gush over him sure, telling him how cool that was! How cool he is! But it doesn’t seem to click, not that Mirage can fault for you that, you’ve never had anyone court you like that.

So, why not gifts? Gifts are a universal love language that can’t go wrong!

“Mirage, you really didn’t have to get me anything, being with you is more than enough.”

How you have him wrapped around your tiny organic digit, making him swoon and spark pulse.

“It’s no problem, really! I wanna show you how much I care about you, so it wasn’t difficult to find a way to buy things for ya!”

He’s too kind, even bought everything himself after hacking (very easily) into your phone and used his own funds to spoil you. Until he got a com from you the day all the packages arrived.

“How many things did you buy me!?”

“Eh, it wasn’t costly so I don’t really remember.”

“Wasn’t costly? Mirage, this must’ve cost my life’s savings!”

You thank him over and over and over again, but he doesn’t mind, always smiling at you and simply asking if you liked what he bought you. It makes your cheeks burn when he does that, asking so sweetly, honestly you might think he’d have an ulterior motive.

The skirts, the dresses, the tops all ranging fm cozy to cute to flirty, pants much the same, he’s even bought you expensive consoles, games, and even things you complained about needing to replace or needing in general.

Each time you cry he doesn’t need to buy you anything, yet the large bot just looks at you with hearts in his optics telling you it’s fine.

Soon nearly sixty percent of your outfits are all things he’s bought you, like a silent claim over you, you can’t move in your home without being reminded of him.

But then that top came in, the one he had been waiting for, and once it did he didn’t bother trying to hide his want to see it. He sits in your drive way in his alt mode, awaiting to see how you look, and by the all spark he’s nt disapppointed.

“Does it look okay?”

You aren’t exactly a big fan of crop tops, but the high waisted jeans you are wearing cover you enough to feel comfortable. The crop top itself is loose and flowy, honestly you could see yourself wearing it around more in the house.

It’s mainly blue with tie dyed black, white, and red, matching his colors perfectly.

You look stunning.

You jump a little, hearing his engines rev loudly. You laugh softly at the display.

“I take it you like it?”

“Remind me to get you a sporty top in those colors.” He sounds near breathless.

“My, Mirage, if i didn’t know any better I’d say you just want us to match.” You tease, laughing at how his engine outright purrs at your words.

Oh, if only you knew how right you were.

Matching, like a couple, like the couple he desperately wants you two to be, loudly claiming you as his.

#transformers x reader #transformers g1 #transformers g1 x reader #transformers mirage x reader

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kawaiiwritingcomputer · 8 hours ago

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sonic characters when they have a crush on you || headcanons

Sonic 🍄

Sonic is the “doesn’t make it too obvious” king of guy. You give him something, he takes it with grace and a simple thank you and nothing more but behind closed doors he admires it. He holds everything and anything you give him or do for him dearly. His love language is gift giving but makes it seem like it was nothing.

“Oh yeah this old thing? No worries, just had to get rid of it anyway.” Meanwhile he totally thought of you and what you had mentioned. He’s the kind of hedgehog that can’t go too long without your attention without feeling weirdly huffy but refuses to admit he had a crush on you!

“Has anyone seen (Y/N)? I’m gonna go check on them.” Yeah. He totally doesn’t have a crush.

Tails 🍄

Tails makes his crush totally obvious. He’s inventing you things saying you might need them. Tails explain it thoroughly so you’re always well equipped and know what to do! He’s always looking for you everywhere just in case… Just in case what? Well, for just in case. Tails gets a little nervous that you might not like him back so he tries to overcompensate as a true friend! He’s so easy to fluster. He laughs at everything you say! Even if it’s not funny sometimes. Tails listens to every detail of your life and closely pays attention. Tails loves you so much to the point he’ll create anything for you!

Knuckles 🪼

The echidna will treat you with the respect he gives any other, overall being a kind person. He wouldn’t know what do to with himself, caught in your flames of love. He thinks of you often, yearning to have you in a hug. He’s so strong,, but not strong enough to deny these feelings. He is bad with hints, and to be honest he’s rather blunt.

“Y/N, here are these flowers I picked for you; and also some grapes! I think you are beautiful/attractive, and I would like to court you on a date!” He’s so serious, it’s very silly but you think it’s endearing and sweet. He’ll try to impress you and make a fool out of himself, eventually winning you over in the end because he’s such a silly cute guy and he makes you laugh.

shadow 🪼

He pretends like his feelings don’t exist, for as long as he can stand it. Damn, you’re just so cute, doing your own thing and enjoying every moment of it. You’ll try to drag him along somewhere for fun, and he’ll pretend he hates it but he’s loving every minute with you. He doesn’t make eye contact with you and he seems to be blushing a lot. He’ll only start to open up to you in private moments.

Shadow will show you small physical affections, like an awkward hug or simply trying to hold your hand. If you seem even a little bit off he will pull away, fearing you may think of him as a monster. You’ll have to reassure him yourself and make some of your own moves. “You don’t think I’m,,, dangerous?” He’s scared of hurting you, he doesn’t want to lose something he loves,, have it ripped away from him again.

silver 🍄

Oh Silver. He’s so awkward and shy! He can conversate for sure but if you show too much interest with your pretty eyes he starts to shut down. Silver practically melts but tells himself he must keep strong. He doesn’t want to look weak to you. He has everything under control! Including his crush on you… Or so he thinks. He yaps about the future and his special interests to you. Silver isn’t a show off kind of guy but if he thinks something will impress you, he’ll try to impress you for sure! Even if it embarrasses himself. Anything to hear you laugh!

scourge 🪼

Scourge always gets what he wants, even if he has to take it. From the moment he set his eyes on you, he wasn’t gonna give up. He had to have you. You would look so good as royalty by his side, sitting atop a throne. He would shower you with gifts, anything even stuff you wouldn’t care for. You may be flattered, but he’s a bad boy. He’s trouble, a straight up red flag that’s erratically waving!! He would make any comment he could about you, often really lewd stuff. Obviously staring at you from beneath those flashy sunglasses. He does have a hidden gentlemanly vibe on the inside, though, when he’s fallen into your trap instead. He’s like a moth to a flame fr.

“Have anything ya want from me, please, just take my heart already! I can’t stand it, someone like you lookin’ so good, you should be mine! Come on, I ain’t as bad as everyone says!” His huge fanged grin says otherwise, but at least he’s trying to be honest about his feelings. You get to be royalty, and he may not seem like it but Scourge is a very loyal partner to you.

amy 🍄

Amy is sooo obvious about her crush with you. She’s daydream scenarios and sighing dreamily to herself. You can always feel her eyes on you, and even feel her smile from miles away. Amy reads her tarot cards about you weekly to see when the perfect day to confess is but she gets nervous. What if it ruins the friendship? She can’t stand the thought of not being anything at all! Amy makes you home made gifts as a token of her love. You say you want new earrings? She’s on it! You saw a cute blanket? She’s knitting away! You would have to be blind to not see her crush. Will you accept her feelings?

rouge 🍄

Rouge is hot and cold with you. Is she being nice or is she flirting? Is she being mean or is shy flirting? She’s also very touchy, in a sly innocent way. If you questioned her, she would just shrug innocently. “Ya had something on ya, I was just trying to help.” Rouges love language can be hard to pinpoint. She comes and goes when she pleases but she always makes sure to talk to you. She doesn’t gift you anything because she doesn’t buy anything but she might steal you something. Rouge is playing the long game with you, slowly working her way into your life completely. She just thinks it’s cute watching you get flustered.

sticks 🪼

Sticks is attached to you in an endearing way, and she likes to talk a lot, so hopefully you can keep up with her. She’s not a prize to be won, you have to earn her respect and show her comfort before trust. She’s been through a lot,, and will be glad to have someone to finally talk to and lean on! She would make you primitive looking gifts, or go hunting to bring you something. She feels like she needs to give you something to represent her feelings.

She is quite flirtatious, and it could be confused with her also just being friendly- because she talks without thinking a lot. She makes compliments on your appearance, offers to show you new things, and tends to be kinda handsy. “You n me get along so good, we might as well become partners!” She would remark, hoping you’ll get her hints.

blaze 🍄

Blaze is direct. She befriends you and talks to you a lot. She goes out of her to see you then will go see others. You’re like a soft and safe place for her. She’s got a cool exterior and she feels like when she’s with you, it can be dropped. She knows she can be quiet or talkative around you and you’ll gladly just show up for her. Her love language is quality time and sharing things!

belle 🪼

First thing about Belle, she’s gonna stand up for you in all situations. She is very reliable, and also super intelligent and interesting. She’s so cute, she would love having your company,, someone to chat with while fixing up inventions. She longs for a partnership, and a bond where she doesn’t get hurt in the end. She’s a little shy when it comes to her crush on you,, and you’ll notice she’ll be more nervous and blushy, words don’t seem to come out right and she’s scared of messing up!!

When it comes to how Belle would confess, she would try to make it fantasy line for you. A beautiful environment to look upon, stars in the sky, and she would make you something related to your interests as a gift,, to show you she cares and she has a heart even if she is made of wood and other materials. She would protect you with all of her power, and always try to keep you happy.

bonus: robotnik

What?! Feelings?? Ivo has never felt such things, in fact he would rather laugh!! There is no feeling, only knowing, he claims to believe, and being deemed as unwanted all of his life has only driven these thoughts in harder. In truth he’s honestly scared of emotion,, he doesn’t like the way things can hurt him,, he doesn’t like to care. Vengeance against that hedgehog and his friend is his motivation…. At least until you came along.

There had never been any processing,, if there was room for love in his life. He’d try to calculate it into his plans,, but such an unforeseen situation would have his mind scattered. He’s a lil stressed about it, and may give you harsher conditions to try and push it all away- but he realizes he feels bad about it. Remorseful, he’s gonna apologize to you and try to set you free, you’re better off without him. If you try to stay— well he wouldn’t know what to do, but would blindly accept the situation, and fess up to you. He will always put you first and would never judge you. He never realized before how badly he craves touch,, and someone to love.

#sonic fandom #sonic #sonic the hedgehog #miles tails prower #shadow the hedgehog #blaze the cat #amy rose #silver the hedgehog #ivo robotnik #eggman x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #scourge the hedgehog #belle the tinkerer #sticks the badger #knuckles x reader

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thatsmzbitchtoyou · 2 days ago

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Sugar & Spicy Books Chapter 3

Summary: Y/N is an accomplished writer who is newly divorced, and out of fear of the unknown, moves back to her small hometown she swore she’d never come back to. She comes across her best friend that never left, who helps her out of a tough spot. Will old feelings arise? Or is she just too big for such a small place now?

Warnings: language, smut

Previous chapter Next chapter

Y/N got into a routine with Bucky and Autumn. On the days she picked up Autumn from school she would take her out and about to grocery shop on Mondays, accompany her to softball practice on Wednesdays, and every Friday was take out night. She loved spending time with Autumn, and could see childhood Bucky in her whenever they would play, or in the way she smiled or laughed. She also got to spend a lot of time with Winnie, which she was grateful for. People around town recognized Y/N from way back when or from her books and would try to talk to her sometimes, but she always politely brushed them off whenever she was with Autumn, not wanting to be a spectacle. Every night after they all got home, had dinner, and Autumn went to bed she and Bucky would talk for way too long, catching up and having in-depth, intellectual conversations that she missed. She could feel that crush coming on full force as their friendship picked up right where it left off all those years ago.

Two weeks later they all came home one Friday with Bucky acting extra excited. “Alright, Autumn! You’re having a sleepover weekend at Grandma’s!” he announced.

“Yay!” Autumn cheered, running up to her room to gather a bag of her things.

“And you and I,” he said quietly, pointing at Y/N, “are going out.”

“Out?” Y/N smiled. “Out where?”

“Boston,” he smirked.

“Boston?” Y/N scoffed. “What the hell for?”

“To celebrate,” Bucky said. “Go change into something nice but warm. And pack an overnight bag.”

Y/N watched him walk up the stairs with wide eyes. She quickly followed, changing into one of the nicer dresses she still owned, fixing up her hair and makeup and wearing sensible shoes, just in case. She grabbed her fluffiest cardigan and a larger purse to carry her overnight things. When she went back downstairs Autumn was jumping in place, holding her own bag and pillow as Bucky was fixing his hair in the mirror in the entryway.

“Daddy let’s go!” Autumn whined, then turned to Y/N and gasped dramatically. “Y/N you look beautiful!”

Y/N smiled at her. “Aw, thanks lovey,” she said, looking down at herself. She looked up again at Bucky who was more dressed up than she had seen him since she came to town, looking dapper and cleaned up. She whistled at him. “Wow, Barnes, you really know how to clean up,” she smirked at him.

Bucky blushed at her compliment. “Says the woman who came down looking like that,” he gestured to her. “Looking good, Y/L/N.”

She hid her blush behind a laugh and reached out to squeeze his arm. Autumn pulled on the sleeve of her cardigan and she quickly placated her. “Alright, alright, let’s go.”

After dropping Autumn off the ride to Boston was two hours. She and Bucky talked the whole way, reminiscing on old times and crazy things from their childhoods. Bucky pulled up to a small hotel downtown, checked them in and dropped off their overnight things, then ordered an Uber. The driver pulled up to The Bell in Hand Tavern. “Oh Jesus, I remember this,” Y/N giggled. “When Sam got us fake IDs and we drank way too much. I had to haul your ass down the street before the cops came. You were trying to kiss me the whole way.”

“I remember everything up until that point,” Bucky laughed. “Then Steve drove us all the way home but missed the turn off and took us to Sugarbrush Farm.”

“Where you bathed in the smallest vat of maple syrup I’ve ever seen,” Y/N laughed as he helped her out of the car. “You were sticky for weeks…Sugar.”

Bucky rolled his eyes and wound an arm around her shoulders. He dipped his head down to her ear. “You think you’re teasing me, but I like it when you call me Sugar,” he said.

“Oh really?” Y/N scoffed, looking at him. Bucky arched an eyebrow at her as he steered her to the main front bar and flagged down the bartender. “Hi, I’ll have a Jameson Black Barrel. And she’ll have a,” he eyed her, “Nantucket Lemonade?”

“Ugh, yes,” Y/N moaned, her eyes rolling back. “I haven’t had that in ages.”

Bucky’s eyes widened at her expression but he quickly looked back at the bartender. “That’ll be it,” he nodded.

When their drinks were ready he took her over to a small table by the window and they sat. “So, what are we celebrating?” Y/N asked.

Bucky held up his glass. “Cheers to your divorce.”

Y/N laughed loudly and clinked her glass against his. “Cheers!” she said, drinking the cocktail. “Fuck that’s good.”

They ate and drank the night away, laughing and talking too loud as they got more tipsy. They didn’t notice people leaving until the bartender yelled out, “Last call!”

“Oh shit,” Bucky giggled and took out his phone. “We gotta go, honey.”

“Aw,” Y/N whined. “But I’m hungry!”

“We’ll find something to eat on the way back,” he smiled as he stood and helped her get up. She leaned on him heavily as he paid the tab and then ordered another Uber.

“How are you still standing and I’m struggling?” Y/N asked, gripping his arm tight.

“‘Cause I had two whiskeys and drank water, and you had…four cocktails?” Bucky chuckled.

“Ugh,” Y/N groaned as he helped her into the Uber. They convinced the Uber driver to stop by a fast food place to grab food before going to the hotel, inhaling the burgers and fries while they stumbled in and eventually found their room.

Bucky fumbled with the key card, dropping it twice while Y/N fought back fits of giggles. When he finally opened the door they both fell inside, laughing maniacally as they sprawled out on the floor and the door shut loudly. “Ssshhh!!” Bucky shushed her, bringing a finger to her lips. “It’s late!”

Y/N playfully nipped at his finger, making him gasp. “Gotcha,” she teased, before rolling over and crawling toward the bed. Bucky crawled after her, and as she started to climb the bed he slapped her ass. “Buck!” Y/N gasped, looking back at him.

“What? It’s not my fault you have a great ass,” Bucky smirked.

“Oh no, are you gonna try to have your way with me like last time?” Y/N laughed, lifting herself up onto the bed and laying flat on it.

“How dare you! I would never take advantage of such a refined lady!” he said in a horrible British accent. He flopped onto the bed next to her. “Though I can assure you…you’d love it,” he winked.

“So sure of yourself,” Y/N giggled. Her head was feeling fuzzy, the filter fully gone as she turned to face him. He leaned on his elbows, making it so he was slightly hovering above her at the angle she put herself in. Y/N stared at him for a moment before her hand reached up and her finger traced his lips. “You’re a good kisser, did you know that?” she asked.

“What?” Bucky scoffed.

“The night before I left,” Y/N frowned. “You kissed me, remember?”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded, blinking rapidly.

Her thumb ran along his bottom lip, slightly pulling it down before she dropped her hand between them. “Softest, prettiest lips,” she whispered, then closed her eyes. “Felt like my heart was…flying that night,” she breathed.

“Really?” Bucky’s voice sounded closer.

“Mhm,” Y/N nodded, her eyes still closed. “Been dreaming about it ever since.”

She felt Bucky’s nose nuzzle her nose, his breath fanning her cheek. “I liked kissing you,” he breathed.

Y/N opened her eyes, looking up to see him staring at her with a soft look in his eyes. “Really?” she asked.

“Been dreaming about it ever since,” he repeated her words with a smirk.

Y/N sobered up as she processed his words and the position they were in, this moment that hung precariously in the balance between friendship and something more. She had the sudden realization that she had loved this man since she was a child, but it had just never been their time. He had only entered her life again recently, and as different and separate as their lives had been, it was like no time had passed at all. She wanted this. This life, with him and Autumn, in the town that she had initially run away from.

Bucky slowly leaned down, his gaze flickering to her lips. “Can I…can I kiss you, honey?” he whispered, his lips ghosting over hers.

“Yes,” Y/N whispered.

He smiled, then kissed her. Y/N sighed into the kiss, her entire body relaxing into the bed. It was like all the stress, tension, uncertainty, how lost she felt and how big the world felt, it all disappeared and tunnel visioned into this moment. All that mattered was that it was Bucky and he was kissing her…and it was perfect.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, her hand holding the back of his head to keep him close, scratching into his hair. Bucky moaned at the scratch, pulling his body to completely hover over hers, his hips nestled between her legs. Y/N got lost in his kisses, the euphoria of feeling his lips, his tongue, his teeth, his hands caressing her everywhere, his heaviness on top of her. She didn’t realize when they’d gotten naked, but suddenly they were and she felt him everywhere she could reach. The planes of muscles built up over time, the tuft of chest hair, his calloused fingers, and the pure pleasure at his cock rubbing between her lower lips.

Bucky kissed down her neck, her chest, giving plenty of attention and care to her breasts, then down her stomach to her core. He lifted her legs over his shoulders, gripping her thighs as he kissed over her clit, making her gasp and buck her hips, Bucky forcing her to stay put. He made out with her pussy, kissing and licking it like it was the most delicious dessert he’d ever had. Y/N’s head wrenched back as he sucked at her clit, then flicked it repeatedly with the tip of his tongue. She was cumming in seconds, squirming in his hold as she whimpered above him. Bucky licked and drank all she gave him. When he helped her through the aftershocks of her orgasm he slowly pulled himself up and crawled back up to kiss her, his mouth and chin shining with her slick. “And you call me Sugar,” he smiled as he bent down and kissed her again.

Y/N moaned at the taste of herself on his lips, her fingers scratching down his back. “Buck please,” she breathed.

Bucky nodded as his hand gripped his cock and slid it through her pussy again. “I’ll take care of you, honey,” he said. He aimed himself and started pushing forward. Y/N slightly winced at the stretch, her hands gripping his biceps as he thrust into her. When his hips were flush with hers he let out a grunt, his head leaning on her shoulder. “Fuck, Y/N…you feel so fucking good. Jesus,” he kissed her collarbone.

“You’re amazing,” she replied. “Please fuck me, Sugar. Fuck me. I can take it.”

Bucky huffed a laugh against her skin. “I’m sure you could, honey. And as much as I’d love to fuck you, right now I just wanna make love to you.” He lifted his head to look at her. “I just wanna feel you, nice and slow. Is that okay?” he pleaded. “I’ve wanted you for years, Y/N. I’ve loved you for so long.”

Y/N could feel tears start to build in her eyes. “I love you, Bucky,” she sniffled, cupping his face in her hands. “I’ve always loved you.”

Bucky smiled wide then kissed her. He started thrusting slowly, pulling keens and groans from her throat. His cock felt perfect, like it was meant to be in her. As much as she and Raf had had a mostly fulfilling sex life, it had never felt like this was him. Bucky’s hips rolled and thrust randomly, the switch up making her eyes roll back every time. He dug a hand under her neck, gripping her by the back of the head and the nape of the hair on her neck, forcing her head certain ways as he kissed her repeatedly. He would nip at her jaw and her earlobe, before kissing his way back to her mouth, where the kisses would change from sweet, soft pecks to demanding, sloppy, and passionate. She felt lightheaded at how he played her body like an instrument only he knew.

Her pussy fluttered around him, making him shudder above her, pulling away from another kiss as he gasped. “Damn, you gonna cum for me, honey? Cum all over my cock, huh?” Y/N nodded like she was still drunk. Bucky’s hips picked up the pace, his cock dragging in and out of her exquisitely. He suddenly hauled himself up and held her against him so she was sitting in his lap, her arms and legs wrapped around him as he changed the angle and started thrusting up into her even deeper. Y/N squealed, her nails digging into his back. “You feel how deep I am, Y/N? God, you’re perfect. Most perfect pussy. Better than I could have ever dreamed.” He kissed her deeply again, his hand still holding her by the back of the neck and his other hand splayed on her back, holding her where he wanted her. When he broke the kiss he leaned his forehead against her forehead and stared in her eyes. “You’re my perfect dream, you know that? Goddamn, I love you.”

“And you’re mine,” Y/N said, her breaths huffing against his face. “Love you…love you, Sugar, Bucky, love you.” She rattled on, feeling the build up in her belly. “Mine,” she groaned.

“Yours,” Bucky nodded, his hand at her neck sliding down to her clit and flicking it with his thumb fast. “Mine,” he nearly growled.

Y/N stiffened in his arms and came hard, shaking as it felt like lightning shooting through her veins and she cried out his name. He buckled at how her pussy gripped his cock, falling back onto the bed with her, his hips rolling into her as he shuddered again and whimpered loudly in her ear as he came. They held each other tightly as they calmed down, hot breaths fanning each other’s skin. Bucky lifted his head from her shoulder and looked at her. His gaze made her heart leap with how soft and wondrous he looked. “Did you mean it?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Y/N frowned.

“That you love me,” Bucky said, tracing her face with his fingers.

She smiled. “I do. I love you, Sugar. I’ve loved you since we were kids. I wish I would have realized it sooner.”

Bucky smiled. “Been dreaming about me ever since?”

Y/N laughed and smacked his shoulder. “Yes, you little shit.”

Bucky chuckled, but his eyes looked mischievous. “Did you think of me when you were fucking your husband?”

Y/N scoffed incredulously. “Okay, first of all, ex-husband, and secondly, you cheeky bastard!”

“Answer the question, honey,” Bucky said, dipping his head back down into the crook of her neck, nipping at her skin. His hold on her tightened again, and his hips rocked into her, pulling a gasp from her lips at how he was getting hard inside her again.

“Sometimes,” she replied breathily.

He hummed in her ear. “I’m gonna take real good care of you, honey. All that sexy stuff in your books? God, you got me feeling horny for years from your stories. Now I’m gonna take my time and show you what it can really be like. You want to show me how well you can take it now?”

Y/N groaned. “Holy shit…yes!” she cried out.

Bucky chuckled darkly. “Good girl…”

#marvel #bucky barnes #smut #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfic #series fanfic #chapter 3 #spicy books

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magic-astro-fae · 12 hours ago

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Notes on the planets

Sun: Outward energy, what fulfills us, ego assertion, general personality traits, life’s focus, where we find joy, the relationship w the inner child, relationship w the father

Moon: Inward energy, what comforts us, emotional assertion, what makes us feel secure, emotional security,how we communicate our needs, relationship w the mother

Mercury: Mental energy, what we think about, how we process new information, how we relay information, intellectual abilities, transportation/ cars, relationship w siblings/ peers

Venus: Aesthetic energy, what we find beautiful, our artistic expression, what we require in love, our personal style, love languages, relationship w women/ femininity

Mars: Physical energy, personal desires, inner selfishness, how we assert our desires, domination, anger/ aggression, physical activity, relationship w men/ masculinity

Jupiter: Philosophical energy, worldly desires, personal pleasure, spiritual assertion, what we study, religious beliefs, dogma, spiritual practices, relationship w the grandmother

Saturn: Restrictive energy, responsibility, long term investments, inhibitions, how we handle criticism, karmic debts, time/ age/ maturity, relationship w the grandfather

Uranus: Unexpected energy, upheaval of structure, rebellion, where we feel instability, eccentricity, technology, relationship w marginalized communities

Neptune: Spiritual energy, what we dream about, subconscious assertion, our dream state, how we sleep, what confuses us, things we delude ourselves to, relationship to the collective

Pluto: Destructive energy, what we want to control, power struggles, cycles ending/ death, unstoppable forces, self destruction, relationship w coercion/ abuse

#astrology #astro notes #astro posts #astrology placements #astrology observations #astro community #zodiac #astro observations #natal chart #astrology chart #astro placements #natal placements

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reginalusus · 2 days ago

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I am impressed with your work! I'm still on my way to explore Bruharvey. Maybe you have some headcanons for them, maybe something from a previous life when both were in college?

Aweee, thank you... <3

My Bruharvey headcanon: Harvey is taller than Bruce and Bruce is a whimpering, pining mess for him. Harvey is an oblivious dumbass. Scarvey knows and weaponizes it. That is all. Goodbye.

Ok, fine. <3

But oh, God, my Bruharvey is kinda rusty but here I go. I don't have many headcanons around the college era of their lives because it's not a particular era that kind of... interests me? Except for a few things which I will indulge in down the list. You know what? I'll be fair and do five for each.

Childhood

Harvey was the curser of the two. Bruce would always try to get him to stop using such language, but it made him laugh, and is there anything more addictive to a sad child than laughing?

Bruce always knew he liked Harvey, even as a child. He couldn't quite explain it yet obviously, this odd feeling of puppy love, but there was always something about his friendship that felt different from others.

Bruce would buy makeup/supplies for Harvey to help cover/hide his bruises and wounds. People at school talk. It's the least he could do.

Harvey would take advantage of his father's drunken comas to sneak out of the house and play with Bruce until the street lights came on. I DO imagine Chris disapproved of Harvey's relationship with Bruce, but that's EXTREME HC territory with no real canon to help me explain.

Scarv was beginning to rear his head as Harvey approached his tweens. It came with headaches, bad nausea, frightening voices, fatigue, so much so that Bruce's worry for Harvey only worsened when Harvey suddenly wouldn't show up at their meeting place to play and hang out.

College

Harvey's crush on Bruce starts to bloom. But it's shattered to pieces frequently because Bruce is a man that seems to get around. He always seems to be talking about a girl he thinks likes him or a boy he's thinking of asking out.

When Harvey gets drunk, Bruce would engage/prompt him into some silly courtroom roleplay. He'd claim it was 'practice'. Sometimes, when the verdict was reached, there was a kiss. Or two. Maybe more.

Bruce begins to notice that a stressed Harvey seems to own an odd rasp to his speech. He becomes snappy out of apparently nowehere, and he doesn't seem to recall what they talked about moments prior. Bruce's search history suddenly becomes less focused on his studies and more of symptom checking.

Bruce has joked about Harvey gaining some extra cash by being a nude model for art students. Little does he know the impact this will have later.

Harvey will show coin tricks to people at parties as a conversation starter. Bruce doesn't have the heart to tell him how dorkish it makes him look - mainly because he loves it.

Adulthood

Bruce would frequently come around to Harvey's DA office when he could, normally with flowers and a proposal to try and get him off work. 9/10 times he failed.

People seem to forget that Harvey is also good at detective work. So I bring upon you this (which I have mentioned before): Harvey sometimes gets a whiff of faint aftershave on Batman that's... oddly familiar. The practicing grips of CQC are... vaguely familiar also. When he's with Bruce, what's with the odd calluses on his palms?

Bruce is a strong man; he can cope with a lot of horrible, mental images. He can power through almost anything. But Harvey's various suicide attempts are one of the few things that haunt him.

Bruce uses himself as a grounding mechanism for Harvey's bad derealization/dissociation episodes. He'll guide Harvey's hands over him, asking him what he feels, how it feels.

Harvey and Scarvey are fascinated with Bruce's duality. Harvey, in canon, has said that he finds Bruce's duality beautiful. Harvey takes particular interest in the Bruce Wayne persona, Scarvey takes interest in the Batman persona. For both philosophical AND romantic reasons.

And a cheeky sixth one: Harvey will always be the gorgeous Apollo to Bruce, even with the scars, the stressed aging, the sins on his back. One day, he will utter it in Harvey's ear. He will not be prepared for how this backfires.

I have been thinking about them a little lately. A lot of people talk about them in an AU sense or when they were younger and before the Canon Event which is fine and sweet and all, and still interesting in its own right. But, personally, these two interest me most when they are at their most seasoned. Two aging men with the world on their backs and their worldview changed by a city that refuses to change. When said city has completely digested them. How two men burdened by duality can make each other feel like one. That's my interest. But anyway, headcanons!

#asks #answered #bruharvey #twobats #headcanons #harvey dent #bruce wayne #tw: suicide mention #tw: suggestive

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protectorcraft · 16 hours ago

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mutual liked the gripe post which reminded me to write it. okay hi im pyxis and im gonna talk about a trope the isat community falls back on a lot in writing that bugs me okay thanks

this is gonna be long and probably annoying so im putting it under a cut. open at ur own risk. heavy spoiler warning thanks.

okay. how do i start this. a thing ive seen in quite a few fics and theories, and its that the islanders are directly- and purposefully- responsible for their own disappearance. usually i see it framed as "the islanders made themselves disappear/attempted to wish away knowledge of wishcraft because it was dangerous" and like. hm! i dont think so.

take this with a grain of salt as ur local cracker but considering the framing of the island's disappearance- abrupt, sudden, disastrous- something everyone was talking about- the disappearance definitely falls more in line with the metaphor of some sort of disaster or, as is a significant theme in the game, colonialism/imperialism and the subjugation of cultures.

this was- 100%- not the islander's faults, and blaming them completely misses the point of the matter.

while people can say wishcraft is dangerous- and really, it is, there's no getting around it- it also seems like it was an important piece of the Island's culture and based off the few islanders we meet, probably used fairly regularly in day to day life. siffrin, for example, literally uses it on the regular without even realizing it. the knowledge of how to do it properly is probably pretty ingrained into the average Islander's brain. to them, it's just a fact of life! i mean, literally all the scriptures we see on wishcraft (and astronomy) ingame are written in the Islander language. they were The Experts on this stuff. (not to mention that this proves the knowledge was in the general public's grasp, even if it required knowledge of their language to learn about)

so it just doesnt make sense that they'd wish something so important to them away like that- sure there was probably discourse amongst them about the dangers of these practices, but they would know enough to know attempt something as risky as, say, wishing away all knowledge of their country or any one big thing. not to mention wishcraft is weird- technically speaking, siffrin's wish probably wouldve had a lot less effect if all the energy of the failed wishes hadnt culminated into their successful one.

and before you bring up how op the kings wish is- remember that a good 75% of the game is exposing all the ways the other characters foil siffrin, including the king. the king, who supposedly made a wish to freeze vaugarde- but did he?

a lot of the king's dialogue, when he isnt gushing about vaugarde and how much he loves it, is about his grief surrounding the loss of his own country. when given the chance, he'll grasp at any opportunity to remember anything about it, even if its putting trust in the hands of a stranger who is literally here to kill him for help. its pretty clear to anyone with a brain that he's not being ingenuine about this.

and, see, siffrin's true wish was masked over by their other wish. its one of the game's big red herrings. yadda yadda yadda how do we know that the king's true wish was really the "preserve" vaugarde, huh?

"where are you going with this we've gotten wildly off track" no we havent! get fucked! i think the kings true wish was the remember his country- and, yknow, there's probably a fair few islanders remaining. probably yearning to grasp even a fragment of their lost culture, hoping and dreaming and wishing for answers. not unlike the king, perhaps? perhaps a culmination of half baked wishes being fueled by one, fully formed wish?

yeah, you get where im going with this.

so perhaps wishcraft isnt quite as strong as we assume it is? that the soul intent of one person isn't necessarily going to give you godlike power in most cases- mind we're not quite grasping the full scope due to loops. Whole Situation. but that's not why we're here.

if the Islanders had enough faith in the rest of the world to provide them with their wishcraft knowledge- then i doubt they wouldve wished themselves or their knowledge away. nobody would do that.

and if the rest of the world did, indeed, have access to that knowledge, then there's a fair chance some other group could be responsible. a group who doesnt even recall their own responsibility because it's been wiped from their memories.

like, idk.... a more on the nose version how colonizer countries bury their own history of misdeeds from the general populace?

idk man. idk. just feels weird to me that so many people seem to have immediately gone towards the Cultural Suicide route for some reason. you have to be willing to acknowledge that the isat universe is definitely not the perfect, pristine world you think it is. and maybe folks just need to be willing to acknowledge the actual brutality the metaphor is alluding to.

after all, an entire island- all of its peoples and cultures- disappeared.

#isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #in stars and time #the colonialism/imperialism metaphor felt pretty obvious to me once i'd gathered the pieces.#im surprised so many people have failed to put it together.

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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 1 day ago

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Second Chance | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Summary: It’s been two years since you and Sebastian considered each other friends, but that’s all about to change when he finds you in the back of the library.

Words: ~6,000

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Romance, Modern AU, Hurt/Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House, One-Shot

Sebastian leaned back in his chair, the faint bassline of a song pulsing through his earbuds as he stared at the pages of his textbook. The words blurred together, his focus slipping away. He rubbed his eyes, pushing his hair back in frustration. Normally, he thrived on the chaos of multitasking—music blasting, three assignments spread out in front of him, and the ever-present buzz of his phone vibrating with group chat notifications. But tonight, none of it held his attention.

Instead, his thoughts kept drifting back to her.

To you.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he stared blankly at the spell diagram on the page. It had been a long time since you and he had been on speaking terms, but that didn’t stop you from haunting him. It was ridiculous, really. You weren’t even in his life anymore. You’d made that perfectly clear after fifth year.

Back then, you’d been inseparable, two halves of a chaotic whole. You were his clever, competitive, and sharp-witted partner in crime, the one person that matched his energy, who pushed back when he pushed too far. At least, you had… until the end. Until he’d crossed too many lines, gone too far chasing answers he thought he needed.

When you walked away, it was like the ground had shifted beneath his feet. He hadn’t realized how much of his world revolved around you until you weren’t in it anymore. And then you’d gone and changed.

The girl who once stayed up debating spell combinations with him and snuck into Crossed Wands had turned into the model student overnight. Top of the class. Prefect material. Polished and poised in ways that made you almost unrecognizable. You’d dropped out of Crossed Wands entirely, called it “unsanctioned” like you hadn’t been one of its fiercest competitors. And worst of all, you avoided him like he was contagious.

Not that he blamed you. He’d been reckless, selfish, dangerous. And you’d always been careful. You’d never taken him up on his offers to teach you darker spells, not even when he’d sworn you could handle it. Not even when he’d practically begged you to trust him. You’d drawn your line and stood firm, and when he crossed it, you’d walked away.

And he missed you.

It wasn’t just the obvious things, though Merlin knew those hurt enough. Like the way you used to roll your eyes at his jokes, even as your lips twitched in a smile you tried to hide. Or the way you stood your ground against him when everyone else gave way, meeting his sharp edges with your own. No, what he missed most were the moments in between—the quiet spaces you filled without even realizing it. The way your laughter could cut through his darkest moods, or how you’d sit beside him, shoulders brushing, as you shared a companionable silence in a way that felt like a language only the two of you spoke.

Now, there was only silence. Cold. Empty. And it was all his fault.

He’d ruined it. He’d ruined you—or at least, the version of you that used to laugh with him and wipe the floor with him in duels you had no business winning. The version of you that once trusted him enough to sneak out at midnight and risk detention just because he said it’d be worth it.

Sebastian leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table as he dragged a hand down his face. The textbook in front of him was abandoned now, forgotten in the tangle of his thoughts. His playlist shuffled to a new song, something slower, the kind of melody that made his chest ache.

Pathetic.

That’s what he felt like, sitting here brooding over someone who probably didn’t think about him at all anymore. You’d moved on. You had your perfect, spotless life, and he was just the lost cause you'd left behind.

He should have been over this by now. Hell, it wasn’t like he didn’t have other things to focus on. Seventh Year was demanding, and he had his own reputation to maintain—being Sebastian Sallow, Hogwarts’ resident troublemaker, wasn’t a title that earned itself. He liked his image well enough, even if it only scratched the surface. It gave people something to talk about, something to expect, and if they underestimated him in the process? Even better.

But all of that felt hollow tonight. He couldn’t shake the memories of you, the way things used to be, and the gnawing and incessant knowledge that no one else had ever fit into his life the way you had.

The faint rustling sound from the back of the library barely registered at first, lost in the haze of his thoughts. But when it came again, louder this time—a shuffle of footsteps, a whispered laugh—Sebastian’s attention sharpened.

Pulling out his earbuds, he frowned and glanced toward the back corner of the library. The lights were dimmer there, casting long shadows over the towering shelves.

Curiosity and a creeping sense of amusement pulled him from his chair. It wasn’t unusual for students to sneak off to the back room for some privacy, Merlin knew Sebastian had been caught back there more than once, but he couldn’t resist taking a peek.

As he rounded the corner, the whispers grew clearer—murmured words followed by a soft laugh that sent a shiver down his spine. He knew that laugh. Knew it so well it hurt.

And then he saw you.

Pressed against the shelves, your fingers gripping the front of Garreth Weasley’s shirt as his hands rested low on your waist. He was leaning into you, close enough that there was no mistaking what was happening. Your lips met his with an urgency that made Sebastian’s stomach churn.

For a moment, all he could do was stare, his mind struggling to reconcile the scene in front of him. You. The same you who avoided him with practiced precision, who sat at the front of every class with perfect posture and perfectly color-coded notes. The same you who had a spotless detention record, and never even handed library books in late. The same you who’d left him behind.

Yet here you were, shattering that image before his very eyes, snogging in the back of the library.

And Merlin help him, he felt like he was splintering right along with it. Because you were tangled up with Garreth bloody Weasley. Like it was nothing. Like you weren’t supposed to be better than this type of thing. Like you hadn’t spent the past two years proving to everyone that you were.

The first rush of emotion was jealousy, sharp and acidic, curling through Sebastian’s chest like a fire he couldn’t put out. It clawed at him, angry and possessive, though he had no right to feel either. You weren’t his. You hadn’t been his for a long time, not since you’d walked away from the wreckage of your friendship and never looked back.

But beneath the jealousy, beneath the gut-twisting ache, there was something else. Something unexpected.

Hope.

It flickered in his chest, small and fragile, but enough to take his breath away. Maybe the girl he’d thought he’d ruined, the one he’d chased away with his recklessness and obsession, wasn’t entirely gone. Maybe the version of you he’d missed—the one who laughed at his stupid jokes, who stayed up with him plotting mischief, who could hold her own in a duel and grin while doing it—was still there.

Because here you were, letting someone back you into a shadowed corner with their hands up your shirt.

You broke the kiss first, leaning back against the shelf as you caught your breath, your lips still parted, your cheeks flushed. Garreth leaned in close, murmuring something by your ear that drew a soft laugh from you—a sound so achingly familiar that it cut straight through Sebastian. He knew that laugh. It was the one you’d reserved for him, for the ridiculous jokes you’d always rolled your eyes at even as your smile betrayed you. It was his laugh.

Or at least… it used to be.

Sebastian’s nails dug into his palms as he watched, his gaze frozen in place like he was locked under a Petrificus spell. The ache in his jaw reminded him to unclench his teeth, but even then, he couldn’t shake the tension coiled in his chest.

And then you looked up.

Your eyes found his, widening with recognition, and the color drained from your face so quickly Sebastian nearly moved to steady you. The laughter that had been bubbling between you and Garreth disappeared instantly, leaving behind a stunned silence that hung heavy in the air.

“Sebastian,” you said, your voice sharp, defensive.

Garreth turned around too, but didn’t seem particularly bothered by Sebastian’s presence. In fact, he had the audacity to smirk, his usual easygoing charm fully intact. “Relax, Sallow,” he said with a chuckle, taking in Sebastian’s scowl. “I’m sure you've seen, and done, worse.”

The heat in Sebastian’s chest flared as Garreth leaned in closer to you, planting a light kiss on the top of your head. The casualness of the gesture, the ease with which Garreth claimed the space so close to you, made Sebastian’s jaw tighten.

“I’d stick around,” Garreth murmured, just loud enough for both of you to hear, “but I’ve got an essay on advanced potion theory calling my name. Can’t let Sharp down, can I?” He winked at you before stepping back.

Sebastian’s fingers curled into fists inside his pockets, the storm behind his expression barely contained as Garreth turned to him. With a grin that bordered on infuriating, Garreth clapped Sebastian on the shoulder in passing. “Try not to give her too much grief, yeah?” he said lightly before sauntering off as though he didn’t have a care in the world.

Sebastian stood rooted to the spot, his blood simmering as he watched the redhead disappear around the corner, leaving the two of you alone.

You crossed your arms, your expression shifting into one of irritation, though the faint flush on your cheeks remained. "Can I help you, Sebastian?"

Sebastian’s jaw ticked as he turned his attention back to you, the mocking tone of Weasley’s words still echoing in his head. He forced his expression into something neutral but the tightness in his chest didn’t ease.

"Forgive me," he said, his words slow and deliberate. "Just trying to figure out what the hell I just walked in on."

You bristled at his words, your posture stiffening, though the flush on your cheeks deepened. “It’s none of your business.”

“None of my business?” He let out a laugh, low and biting. "You were snogging Garreth Weasley in the back of the library, it's not like you tried very hard to hide."

Your glare sharpened, your arms tightening across your chest like armor. “Don’t start, Sebastian.”

“Start what?” he asked, his voice dripping with mock innocence, though the smirk playing on his lips gave him away. “I’m just trying to figure out when you decided to join the rest of us delinquents. Was it before or after you decided that Weasley deserved the honor of corrupting you?”

Your jaw tightened, and your eyes flashed with a defiance that he hadn’t seen in ages. “You’re one to talk about corruption,” you shot back, your tone scathing. “You’ve built your entire reputation on it.”

“At least I’ve never pretended to be anything else.” He retorted, the smirk tugging at his lips sharp and humorless.

The air between you was charged, the kind of tension that felt as though it might crack and shatter if either of you pushed just a little harder. Sebastian’s smirk lingered, but it didn’t reach his eyes, which burned with something darker—something almost desperate beneath the sarcasm.

“Pretended? You don’t know anything about me anymore,” you said finally, your voice firm, but he caught the faintest tremor beneath the surface. “Don't try acting like you do.”

“I don’t know about that,” he said finally, his tone quieter now, the fire in his chest simmering into something closer to resignation. “Your spotless reputation is pretty well known, love. It’s hard not to wonder what happened to the girl I knew.”

Silence stretched between you, heavy and charged, the air around you humming with unspoken words. Sebastian stood there, his hands still buried deep in his pockets, his eyes fixed on the floor as though it might hold some kind of answer. But when he glanced back up at you, something in his chest tightened.

Because even as you stood there with your arms crossed, your chin tilted high in defiance, he saw it. The hurt in your eyes, sharp and raw, like an old wound reopened. And beneath that—buried deep, but unmistakable—there was something else. Something wistful. Something you were trying desperately to hide but couldn’t quite bury fast enough.

And then, to his surprise, you let out a soft laugh. It was barely more than a breath, but it carried a wry edge as you shook your head, your arms falling loosely to your sides. “Oh Sebastian... you only think I’m such a good girl because I never get caught.”

For a second, Sebastian could only stare, his mind scrambling to process what he’d just heard. Because this—this sounded like banter. Not the cold, guarded deflections he’d gotten used to whenever you were forced to speak to him, but something that carried the faintest glimmer of playfulness. And that little flicker of hope that had been quietly smoldering in his chest suddenly roared to life, bright and insistent, warming parts of him he’d thought had long since gone cold.

He tilted his head, his smirk returning, though it was softer now, edged with something more genuine. “Is that so?” he drawled, his voice low and teasing. “Are you saying the girl I knew is still in there, underneath that Prefect’s title?”

You arched a brow, folding your arms again as though that would shield you from the weight of his gaze. “Maybe I just got better at hiding it,” you shot back, your voice calm but laced with a daring edge that caught him off guard.

Sebastian blinked, the smirk faltering for a moment before it came back with renewed intensity. “So the golden girl has a secret wild streak? Fascinating. Tell me more.”

“There’s nothing to tell,” you replied coolly, but the faint twitch at the corner of your lips betrayed you. “I’m just better at knowing when to keep my head down, unlike some people.”

“Some people?” he repeated. “You wound me, really."

You shook your head, a soft laugh escaping before you could stop it. And Merlin, that laugh—it was so familiar, so achingly familiar, that Sebastian wished he could bottle it, to hold onto this moment and never let it go.

“So what’s next for you, oh master of stealth?” He teased. “Another clandestine meeting in a forgotten corner of the castle? Or is Garreth the only lucky one?”

The mention of Garreth’s name made your expression falter, the brief levity between you vanishing like a popped bubble. You straightened, your arms crossing tightly again, and for a second, he almost regretted saying it.

Almost.

“What’s it to you?"

For a heartbeat, Sebastian considered brushing it off with a joke, deflecting the way he always did when things got too real. But something about the way you looked at him—equal parts defiance and hurt—made the usual mask feel too heavy to hold.

“It’s nothing,” he said finally. He shifted his weight, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets. “Just… didn’t think he was your type, that’s all.”

“My type?” you repeated, incredulous. “What do you even know about my type, Sebastian?”

He opened his mouth, then closed it again, caught off guard by the question. The truth was, he didn’t know. Not anymore. He used to think he did. Back when the two of you spent endless hours together, when he could read your mood with a single glance.

“Not much, I guess,” he admitted, the words tasting bitter as they left his mouth. “At least, not these days.”

Something flickered in your eyes at that, and for a moment, the silence between you felt heavier than any argument could have been.

You exhaled sharply, shaking your head as if to clear it. “Look, I don’t know what you think you walked in on, but—”

“I think I walked in on you snogging Garreth Weasley,” Sebastian interrupted, his tone dry as he gestured vaguely toward the shelf where he’d found you. “Which, for the record, is a sentence I never thought I’d say.”

You rolled your eyes, the irritation in your expression softening just slightly. “What is it you have against him, Sebastian? Did he beat you in a duel when you were 11 or something?"

Sebastian huffed a laugh, his smirk resurfacing with just enough of an edge to mask the sting your words carried. “Please,” he said, crossing his arms. “Garreth couldn’t beat me in a duel if I tied my wand hand behind my back. You know that.”

“Do I?”

Sebastian sighed, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided your piercing gaze. "Look, I just didn’t think he was your… speed."

"My speed?" you repeated, your eyebrows shooting up as incredulity laced your tone.

He hesitated, fumbling for words. "It’s just… Weasley? Really?" He gestured vaguely, his lips curving into a wry smirk. "The guy spends half his time trying to turn candy into explosives. I thought you’d go for someone who could… you know, keep up with you."

Your arms crossed in front of your chest, your glare sharp enough to cut through the tension hanging in the air. "And who’s that supposed to be? Someone like you?"

The question hit him harder than it should have, and for a moment, he couldn’t find a response. Because yes, once upon a time, he thought exactly that. Back when you were still friends, back before everything fell apart, he’d imagined—hoped, even—that he might be the kind of person you’d want.

But that was a long time ago. Now, the very idea felt absurd.

"I didn’t say that," he muttered, though the defensive edge to his voice gave him away.

You scoffed, shaking your head as you turned slightly away from him. "I don’t know why you even care. You made it perfectly clear a long time ago that we’re not exactly friends anymore."

Sebastian flinched, the words hitting like a blow to the chest. He straightened, his arms dropping to his sides as his smirk faltered. "That’s not fair," he said quietly. "You’re the one who walked away."

You turned back to him at that, your expression shifting from irritation to something closer to hurt. "Because you gave me no choice, Sebastian."

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words wouldn’t come. Because you were right. And then, before he could stop himself, his lips were moving, saying the words he should have said so long ago but never had the courage to face you again and say.

"I’m sorry. I'm so sorry. I know I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I’m not asking for it. But I… fuck. For once I just wanted to say it. I really am sorry.”

Your expression shifted the moment the apology left his lips. The tension in your posture seemed to drain away, replaced by something far more vulnerable. For the first time in years, you didn’t look sharp or guarded as you looked at him—you just looked… fragile. It was enough to make Sebastian's chest tighten, his protective instincts flaring to life before he could stop them.

He took a cautious step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, as though you were a skittish cat that might bolt at any sudden movement. “Maybe we should…” he hesitated, glancing around the dim library as though the walls themselves might be listening, “talk somewhere more private.”

Your eyes flicked up to meet his, searching his face for a long, agonizing moment. He didn’t dare move, barely even breathed, until finally, to his surprise, you gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

“Come on,” he murmured.

He turned and began walking, glancing back only to see you trailing after him, quiet but willing. The sight of you following him, however hesitantly, sent a pang of something bittersweet through him.

When the two of you finally reached the entrance to the Undercroft, Sebastian unlocked the hidden entrance and led you inside.

The secret room hadn’t changed much since the last time you’d been here two years ago. The same glowing sconces cast their warm light over the stone walls, and the air carried the same faint chill that always seemed to linger underground. But to Sebastian, it felt… different. Smaller, somehow, with the weight of all the unspoken words that had built up between the two of you over the years.

You stopped in the center of the room, your arms wrapped loosely around yourself as though to ward off the cold. Sebastian lingered near the doorway, his hand brushing against the edge of the stone wall as he watched you.

The silence stretched again, and Sebastian shifted uncomfortably, his fingers drumming against the hilt of his wand as he searched for the right words.

“I meant what I said,” he began hesitantly, his voice low and rough, like the words were dragging their way out of his throat. “I’m sorry. For… all of it. For the way things ended. For the way I pushed you away. For the fact that I—” He broke off abruptly, his jaw tightening as he looked away, running a hand through his hair in frustration.

His fingers gripped the back of his neck as he tried again, his words tumbling out in fits and starts, each one heavier than the last. “I—I was a mess. I am a mess. But back then? Fuck, I didn’t even see it. I thought I was doing what I had to do. That I was right. And by the time I realized how wrong I was… it was too late.”

He looked at you then, his eyes glassy with emotions he couldn’t quite hide anymore. “I hate that I hurt you,” he said, his voice trembling slightly, though he forced himself to press on. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t stay. And I hate myself for being too blind, too damn stupid, to see what I was doing to you until you were gone.”

Sebastian took a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists at his sides as if he was trying to physically hold himself together. “You were the best thing in my life,” he said, his voice cracking on the words. “And I—I ruined it. I ruined us.”

He shook his head, his expression a mess of frustration and something painfully raw. “But I never stopped missing you,” he admitted, his voice barely audible. “Not for a second. And seeing you now… sneaking around, breaking rules—it was like, for just a moment, I thought I still knew you.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a shaky breath, his gaze flicking away before returning to yours. “Even if you were snogging bloody fucking Weasley.”

You didn’t say anything right away, your gaze fixed on the floor as you seemed to wrestle with your own thoughts. When you finally looked up at him, your eyes were glassy, your voice trembling just slightly.

“I didn’t leave because I thought you were a mess, Sebastian,” you began, your voice quiet but steady despite the way your hands fidgeted at your sides. “I left because I didn’t know how to help you anymore. I left because I was scared,” you admitted, the words heavy in the air. “I saw what you were doing to yourself—pushing everyone away, chasing after things that hurt you more than helped—and it killed me because no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t stop you.” Your gaze dropped to the floor. “And I couldn’t just stand there and watch you destroy yourself,” you whispered, voice trembling. “Because I—”

You took a shaky breath, the words fragile and undeniable. “I fucking loved you, Sebastian. And seeing you like that, knowing I couldn’t fix it—I thought… maybe if I walked away, it would hurt less. And maybe it would force you to save yourself.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched, his lips parting as if to respond, but no words came. The weight of your confession hung heavy between you, and you laughed softly—a bitter, self-deprecating sound—as you glanced back up at him.

“So I left,” you continued, your tone tinged with wryness now. “I threw myself into rules and order and schedules. I thought if I could just be… perfect, the opposite of all that chaos, maybe it would fill the void you left behind.”

You wiped at your eyes quickly as a humorless laugh escaped your lips, bitter and raw. “But it didn’t help,” you admitted, shaking your head. “It still hurt. I still missed you every damn day."

Sebastian felt like the wind had been knocked out of him, like the very foundation he stood on had crumbled beneath him and he was left grasping at nothing, struggling to steady himself. For a moment, all he could do was stare at you, his heart hammering against his ribs as he struggled to process everything you’d just said.

“You loved me?” he asked finally, his voice low and rough, like the words were scraping their way out of his throat. “You… do you love me?”

You hesitated, your arms wrapping around yourself protectively as you glanced away. “Does it matter?” you wiped at your eyes again. “It’s been so long, and we’re… not who we used to be.”

“But it matters to me,” Sebastian said, his hands twitching at his sides as though he wanted to reach for you but didn’t quite dare.

“Sebastian,” you said softly, your tone wavering, “we can’t just go back to how things were. Too much has happened.”

“I’m not asking to go back,” he said quickly, his words rushing out as if he were afraid you might leave again before he could get them out. “I know I can’t undo what I did, but I’m not the same person I was then. And I know things have changed but—” He broke off, running a hand through his hair in frustration before continuing. “It doesn’t mean I don’t want to try.”

“Why now?” you asked, the words quiet but sharp. “Why say all of this now, after all this time?”

Sebastian exhaled shakily, his hands curling into fists before falling limp at his sides. He couldn’t meet your eyes yet, not until he forced himself to speak. “Seeing you tonight,” he began, his voice rough, “seeing you with him… I guess it… I saw what I’ve been missing. What I threw away. And I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt—pretending I don’t miss you. Because I do. Every day.”

His voice softened, steadier now. “You’re still you. That girl I knew—she’s still there. I saw her tonight. And fuck, I miss her. I miss you. And I love you. I’ve always loved you. I don’t care how much time has passed or how messy this is. If there’s even a chance to figure this out—to fix us—I’ll take it.”

The intensity in his words left you momentarily speechless, the air between you thick. You turned away, your shoulders stiff as you tried to gather your thoughts, tried to keep your emotions from spilling over. But it was no use—Sebastian could see it now. The subtle tremor in your posture, the way your shoulders shook with quiet sobs you were desperately trying to suppress.

Sebastian’s chest tightened painfully, his throat constricting as he watched you. For a moment, he faltered, the guilt and anguish rising like a tidal wave. But he refused to let it drown him, refused to let this moment slip through his fingers. He wouldn’t let you go. Not again. Not when you were here, standing right in front of him, raw and hurting in a way he knew all too well.

He stepped closer, his voice soft but resolute as he broke the silence between you. “You said you missed me,” he repeated, his words trembling with vulnerability. “Do you still?”

You froze, your hands clenching at your sides as you tried to steady yourself, but you didn’t turn around. The pause stretched, unbearable in its uncertainty, and Sebastian took another step closer, his heart pounding against his ribs.

“Please,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper now. “Just… tell me. Do you still miss me? Do you still—” He cut himself off, swallowing hard, the weight of his emotions catching in his throat. “Do you still feel it?"

Finally, you turned, your tear-streaked face meeting his, and the sight nearly undid him. There was so much pain in your expression, so much conflict, but beneath it all was something else—something softer, something vulnerable and unbearably familiar.

"Yes, I do."

The moment the second “yes” left your lips, Sebastian was moving, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat. His hands found your shoulders first, gentle but firm as if grounding himself, before sliding down to your arms, and then pulling you into him, fierce and desperate.

You froze for a moment, caught off guard by the sudden closeness, but then your hands slowly came up to clutch at the front of his shirt, holding on with all the strength you had.

It was overwhelming, the sheer force of finally holding you after all these years. You felt the same—your body fitting against Sebastian like it always had, your warmth seeping into him. And Merlin, you still smelled the same—like wildflowers and ink and something distinctly, heartbreakingly yours. The scent alone was enough to undo him, memories flooding back in a torrent that made his chest ache.

His hand moved to cradle the back of your head, his fingers threading gently through your hair. “I missed you,” he said, his voice cracking as he pulled back just enough to meet your eyes. “God, I missed you. And I’m never—” He swallowed hard, his gaze burning into yours. “I’m never letting you go again. Never.”

Your eyes searched his, glassy but soft, and for the first time in so long, there was no guardedness between you, no walls keeping him out. Only you. The girl who had been his anchor, his compass, his everything.

You nodded, your own tears slipping down your cheeks as you whispered, “Good.”

He leaned down, his lips finding yours in a kiss that was desperate and tender all at once. You kissed him back just as fiercely, your hands sliding up to grip his shoulders.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was real. You were real, and you were here, and Sebastian swore to himself that he would do whatever it took to keep you by his side this time. Whatever it took to prove to you, and to himself, that this wasn’t something he would ever take for granted again.

When the kiss finally broke, you rested your forehead against his, your breaths mingling as you both struggled to steady yourselves. Sebastian’s hands cupped your face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that lingered on your cheeks.

“I love you,” he murmured, the words carrying the weight of everything he’d been too afraid to say before. “I’ve always loved you."

Your lips curved into the faintest of smiles, your fingers brushing against his jaw. “I never stopped loving you,” you whispered. “And I’m tired of pretending I don’t.”

Sebastian let out a breathless laugh, the weight of your words sinking into his chest like a balm over years of ache. His hands stayed on your face, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek before sliding down to trace the curve of your lips.

“You know,” he murmured, his voice soft but teasing, “there’s one last thing I need to know before I can fully move on from the whole Weasley… situation.”

You raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at your lips despite the tears still shining in your eyes. “Oh, Merlin. What now?”

His lips twitched into a smirk of his own, the familiar cockiness warming his expression. “Am I a better kisser than him?”

“Sebastian.”

“What?” he said, his grin widening slightly, though his gaze stayed soft. “I think it’s a fair question, considering…”

You narrowed your eyes, but the playful warmth in his gaze was impossible to resist. Finally, with a dramatic sigh, you relented, tilting your head slightly as though to consider. “Yes, Sebastian,” you said dryly, though the smile playing on your lips betrayed you. “You’re a better kisser than Weasley. ”

His grin turned triumphant, and he let out a low chuckle, his hand slipping back to cradle your face. “Good,” he said, his voice dropping to a warm, affectionate murmur. “I already knew that. I just wanted to hear you say it.”

You rolled your eyes again, but this time, your smile lingered, and Sebastian’s heart swelled at the sight.

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